What is this garbage?

by illimitableoceanofinexplicability

.

Wherein our hero explains things to you as patiently as he can

.

.

Originally, when the idea for this post occurred to me, while I made my way from one end of the kitchen to the other, the title was going to include what is generally accepted by the majority of English speakers as a ‘bad word’. This ‘bad word’, or profanity, as you may have already guessed, if you have ever had cause to resort to the use of profane language, was to be ‘fucking’, as in “What is this fucking garbage”?. Then (as I have explained, in previous posts, often happens) I thought better of it. In just the time it took me to walk from the kitchen to the purple couch ( 6.2 seconds from the doorway to sitting down) I had a change of heart about the usefulness of the word ‘fucking’ in trying to convey to the potential reader the overall tone of the post. It really did not seem at all necessary. In fact,in my mind, the word ‘fucking’ seemed to only create an undesired atmosphere of anger possibly even causing, in some people, a fear of potential violence to be perpetrated upon them if they did not have an answer to what the garbage was, or, if even they did not answer the question quickly enough. The inclusion of ‘fucking’ would therefore only result in the transformation of a simple question “What is this garbage” into the frightening outburst “What is this fucking garbage” that would, without a doubt, cause most people in the area of any person asking this question in such a rude way to wonder to themselves, ‘What’s this guy’s problem”?, instead of focusing on finding out what exactly the garbage asked about is.

Having considered all this, and more, while upon my morning constitutional through the Nearby Orchard and along the edge of the Dark Wood, and as well, in conversation with a like minded, if irascible, compatriot while both of us sat upon the purple couch enjoying espressos, I was, definitely more than I had been, convinced that the conclusion I had come to, in what most would consider haste, was, without question, the right, or at least the most right appearing, decision I could come to given the information available to me at the time. So, with that settled I set to work on selecting the most appropriate drawings for the illustration of the post followed by their being combined into a single image within an old, but reliable version of a computer program called ‘photoshop’. And, as you can see above, and, as I think you will agree, the resulting image is, for the purposes here required, as near perfect as one not formally trained in graphic design could hope to get.